D: Day of Darkness

A Story by Red

A fictional story of war.

June 6th, 1944

Normandy, France

That day, we made are march against Nazi Germany. Our black box boats floated in the water, drifting our way to the shores of Normandy, France. The constant rocking of the waves didn’t calm my nerves. There were other men with me. Some had families. Others just made to the age of eighteen. Me myself, lost part of my family to the bombing of pearl harbor. There, at that moment as the bombs dropped, I lost my mother and father. My wife and kids are home in the states, holding fort at the house. Fact is, none of us might never see our families again. Our mother’s, father’s, dog’s and children. People we raised and loved gone in an instant. Why are doing this? If we are doing this, and there is a chance we can lose all we love. If we die protecting the country, making sure they have a home. That is enough for me to do. Than our vessels stopped moving. The men around me lifted themselves from the ground, clutching their guns, shaking, terror on their faces. I was ready, helmet strapped on, ready to fight. I was shaking in my boot’s, but I ignored the fright I was feeling. We weren’t an army. All of us were brother’s in arms. The cranking of metal alerted us to to hatch of the vessel opening. It hit the water with a loud splash, sending a chill up my spine. It was cold. Cold as the heart of the b*****d that began this war. Their leader, started this carnage, and I am going to kill him. Hitler will die today. Thus, all the other soldiers charged into the icy waters, running towards the biggest blood bath the nations have ever saw. The troops in my boat charged, splashing thru the water. All that was left were me and another man. He was caucasian, looked about twenty-one in age. He Was sobbing, frozen in time. His helmet was on the ground next to where he stood. His hair was a beautiful shade of brown, flowing in the wind. I strolled up to him. I tapped on his shoulder, and he turned his head. His face was blotchy and red from the crying.
“You okay soldier,” I asked. He started to open his mouth, but another sob shut him down. In his hand was a crumpled piece of paper. It was probably a picture of his family. I started to speak again. “ You’re scared. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Think of it like this,” I motioned my hand to the piece of paper he was clutching in his hands as if it was life or death. He handed it to me, and I folded it. On it was a little girl. She was smiling. Her face was a little pudgy, and she had brown hair. “Your sister,” I asked. He nodded, tears glistening down his cheek. “ If you don’t go out there, if stay here and cry, you aren’t doing any good. When, and if you run out there, you are a hero. You are protecting her,” I pointed out to the battle. He nodded, picked up his gone, and went to join the others. I charged along with him smiling. Then his body dropped. It wasn’t just his. Other;s two. Nazi, American, French. THeir body’s were dropped like flies. Yes, I was scared. We still one though. We won the battle that we would call D-day. Do I regret, fighting that battle. No. But it did something to me. My mind was opened like a flower blooming on a spring day. Death, loss, unfairness, this is life. I fought plenty of battles. Not one of them was as heartbreaking as this. That day, four thousand, four hundred thirteen allies died. If that wasn’t enough, nine thousand enemies died. Over Twelve thousand lives were lost. I stopped fighting that day. I spilt no more blood. Do you know what the D in D-Day stands for? To me, Death. Darkness. The reality of the world.